


Aliens

by there_must_be_a_lock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aliens, Ancient Aliens drinking game, Gen, Scully Worship, Sibling!Reader, Underage Drinking, fluffy teenage Winchester shenanigans, silliness, x-files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 08:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: Written for "Katie's 31 Days of Halloween" challenge on Tumblr. Underage Winchester drinking shenanigans.





	Aliens

“Donut?” Dean said, offering the box to Sam as he emerged from the bathroom. 

“Yeah right,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “What’d you do? Mayo?” 

“Told you that was an old one, Dean,” you said. 

“Dammit.” He set down the box with a huff. “I worked hard on those.” 

Sam smirked. 

“Can we just call a truce for one fucking night?” you asked irritably. “This is getting out of hand, I hate having to, like, triple-check everything before I eat. The sugar thing this morning was not cool.” 

“Oops,” Sam said sheepishly. “My bad, I forgot to warn you.” 

“The toilet one was also uncalled for,” you said.

“It was just tea bags,” Dean said, grinning. You glared at him. 

“Truce,” you insisted again. 

“Fine!” Dean huffed. 

“Look, we only have a day before Dad gets back, it’s almost Halloween, can we just do something fun, for once?” you pleaded, looking from one brother to the other. 

“Well, now that you mention it,” Dean said, with a wink, and he bent down, fishing something out from under the motel bed. 

“Where did you get that?” Sam asked, when Dean brandished the half-full bottle of whiskey with a triumphant smile. 

“Is it really alcohol? Or, like, that funky colored mouthwash?” you asked skeptically. You’d been caught in the middle of your brothers’ prank wars one too many times. 

“It’s the real thing,” Dean said. “Courtesy of a, um, older lady friend of mine.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself. 

“Does she know you’re only nineteen?” Sam asked. He was clearly trying to be dismissive, but he looked more than a little jealous. Dean just grinned at him. 

“Go get a mixer, pipsqueak,” Dean ordered, and handed Sam and fistful of change from his pocket. 

“Let’s see if there’s something good on,” you said, and started flipping through channels while Sam headed out to the vending machine. It didn’t take you long to settle on the History Channel, which was playing Ancient Aliens. “Have you ever played this drinking game?” 

“Oh, please,” Dean said scornfully. 

“No, seriously, you’ll be trashed by the end of the episode,” you promised. 

“How would you know? You better not be drinking without me,” Dean said protectively. You stuck your tongue out at him. 

Sam came back with two bottles of Coke, and Dean made drinks while you settled in. 

“What are the rules?” Sam asked, eyeing the screen dubiously. 

“Drink whenever the narrator asks a question and then follows it up with ‘and if so…’” you said. “Drink whenever there’s a shot of pyramids, or a picture of some sort of artifact that looks like it’s glowing, or whenever they say ‘ancient astronaut theorists believe.’ And whenever Giorgio Tsoukalos appears. And when he does that gesture with his hands,” you demonstrated, “two drinks. One for each hand.” 

“Giorgio Soo- whatnow?” Sam asked. 

“Dude with the hair.” 

“Cheers,” Dean said, and handed you each a plastic cup. 

“Drink!” you said, pointing at the screen, which was displaying a photo of a South American pyramid. You took a sip, and Sam and Dean followed your lead. 

“Isn’t that-” Sam asked. 

“Yup, that’s him,” you laughed. “Drink! Wait, shit, another-” 

Giorgio made an emphatic gesture, and then said, “As some ancient astronaut theorists speculate…” 

“That’s three sips,” you giggled, taking them in quick succession. 

“Huh,” Sam winced, looking at his half-empty cup. “That was fast.”

“Can you handle it, Sammy?” Dean teased. Sam glared. He was decidedly pink-cheeked. 

“Glowing artifact!” you exclaimed, pointing. 

“And if so…” the narrator said, and you all took another sip. 

Sure enough, the three of you were drunk by the end of the episode, even Dean, although he was pretending to look disdainful whenever you and Sam got the giggles. 

“S’my turn to pick,” Sam said, making grabby hands at the remote. He tried to pounce on you to get it and almost tumbled off the bed, which made Dean cackle. 

“Fat chance, we are not watching a documentary,” you said, and flipped through channels. “Boring, boring, boring...ooh, X-Files!” 

“Scully,” Sam said reverently. 

“Marry me,” you agreed. 

“Ugh, whatever, dorks,” Dean said. “Wait, this is the- uh, never mind.” 

“The what?” Sam asked curiously. 

“The scary one that makes Dean freak the fuck out,” you said gleefully. “Tooms!” 

“I did not freak the fuck out,” Dean said, but he was reaching for the remote while trying not to look at the screen. “I just...prefer the myth arc. The monster of the week thing is dumb."

“Who’s the dork now?” you smirked. 

“Whatever, you’re the one obsessed with aliens,” Dean muttered. He took a quick drink from the whiskey bottle, still determinedly not looking at the TV. 

“Fuck,” Sam yelped, and almost fell off the bed again. 

“See? It’s scary,” Dean mumbled. “Give it-” 

He was trying to wrestle the remote away again when the power suddenly flickered. All of you froze, and then immediately looked to the windows and doors to check the salt line.  _ Dad would be so proud, _ you thought, before you scrambled for the axe on the dresser. Your head spun when you stood up straight. 

You looked behind you. Poor baby Sam, bless his heart, was brandishing the fallen remote as if it were a sword, weaving back and forth. Dean, meanwhile, was sitting on the bed completely unconcerned, rolling his eyes. 

“Good one, Sammy,” he said. 

“Huh?” Sam blurted out. 

“Dean, I don’t think he’s doing anything,” you said. 

“We called a truce, remember? What’s the next part, gonna sneakily turn the air conditioning on?” Dean sneered. 

“Not me,” Sam said. The lights were still flickering on and off. Dean looked slowly from Sam to the light switch, and panic seemed to cut through the whiskey haze. 

“Fuck,” he said, and pulled the shotgun from under the bed. 

“Still warm, it’s not a ghost!” you pointed out. 

“Good thing I have real bullets,” Dean replied, and faced the door, gun cocked. 

The door handle was rattling loudly. Between the slats of the blinds, you saw light, suddenly, growing brighter and brighter. 

“Aliens,” Sam said. His face was pale. 

“If this is a prank, it’s a real shitty one, Sammy,” Dean replied, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. “Get behind me!” 

The door was vibrating, and the power surged on and then back off again with a crackle, and from outside you heard a sort of high electronic chattering. 

“Fucking aliens,” you breathed, so amazed it was hard to be scared. 

“Aliens. Are. Not. Real!” Dean shouted. He fired the gun at the door. 

The noise stopped. The power came back on and stayed that way, and everything was still. 

“What the fuck,” Dean said flatly. “What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” 

“Aliens,” Sam said, gesturing with both hands. 

“Aliens aren’t fucking real!” Dean snapped. Sam made a face at him. 

“I hope you get abducted someday,” he grumbled.  


End file.
